Amore mio 2

80, part 1.

Her.

Dawn painted the bedroom in soft shades of gold and pink, the early light slipping through the wide glass doors and spilling across the bed like warm watercolour. Outside, the ocean moved in gentle breaths, the waves rolling against the shore with a quiet, steady rhythm that sounded almost like a lullaby meant just for us. The salty breeze drifted through the room, carrying the scent of the sea and tropical flowers, brushing over my skin like the softest caress.

The sheets were a tangled mess of white around us, warm and creased from hours spent wrapped in each other—from laughter and whispered confessions, from long kisses that had stretched deep into the night, from the kind of closeness that made time dissolve into nothing but warmth and touch.

*mature themes*

My body hummed with lingering, delicious exhaustion, every muscle soft and loose, my skin sensitive in the most intoxicating way. I was still catching my breath when I felt Leo's lips brush against my bare back.

A soft moan slipped from me before I could stop it.

His kisses were slow, unhurried, reverent—as though he were rediscovering me all over again. He started low, pressing warm, lingering kisses against my skin before trailing upward in a lazy path along my spine. Each touch of his mouth sent small shivers rippling through me, making my fingers curl deeper into the rumpled sheets beneath me.

The gentle scrape of his stubble made my skin prickle, that delicious contrast of rough and soft setting every nerve alight. I could feel the warmth of his breath follow every kiss, the heat of him so close behind me that it made my heart beat faster.

The quiet room filled with the soft rhythm of our breathing, the faint rustle of linen, and the distant whisper of the sea beyond the open doors.

Leo shifted closer behind me, his presence warm and solid, the familiar strength of him surrounding me. The slow movement of his body against mine never stopped, steady and affectionate, like the tide outside our window—coming and going in a rhythm that felt natural, inevitable.

Every gentle motion sent soft waves of sensation through me, making me squeeze the sheets as a quiet whimper slipped past my lips.

"Leo."- I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper, his name dissolving into the warm morning air.

His hand—large, warm, marked with the familiar lines of ink that I loved tracing with my fingertips when we lay together like this—slid slowly up along my back. His touch was unhurried, savouring, his palm gliding over my skin before settling lightly at my neck, squeezing softly.

He drew me gently back toward him, sitting me down more so that my back rested against his chest, my hair pooling down my back, brushing against his chest.

The new angle...How deep his thick, hard cock sank...Mhm, Dio.

His chest was warm against my back, his heartbeat steady and grounding, and I felt the curve of his smile against the side of my neck before his lips nestled there. He kissed the sensitive skin beneath my ear slowly, unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world.

My hands tightened again in the sheets as my head tipped back slightly against his shoulder, instinctively leaning into the warmth of him. One of his hands moved to my 29-week belly, holding me there, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache.

"Are you going to come for your husband, mio bello amore? Are you going to make me so happy and soak my cock?"- Leo rasped in my ear, his words melting into a low, husky moan that made my heart flutter.